


Deals With the Devil

by Puffinpastry



Series: Sugar Sick [2]
Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Blood Kink, Darkspawn AU, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:15:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23128384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puffinpastry/pseuds/Puffinpastry
Summary: It was surprisingly easy for people to look away from the things they knew to be true.As long as Eleven could smile and pretend, could promise things he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, keep, most of his newfound friends were eager to turn a blind eye to the worst of his behaviors.At least, most of them were.
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI)
Series: Sugar Sick [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660213
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	1. LimeLight - Jasper

Veronica and Serena have already taken to their room at the inn for the night, leaving Erik and Eleven alone.

The moonlight turned the world silver around them, and made the shadows all the darker.

“Those girls..” Erik began, “they're meant to protect a Luminary who plans on saving the world. I don’t know if they’ll understand-“

Eleven frowned where Erik couldn’t see, then took his wrist in one hand, pulling Erik close. “Then they don’t need to understand.” Eleven said quietly. He brought up his other hand, pressing his index finger to Erik’s lips. 

Eleven smiled as sweetly as he could manage, “Then they don’t need to know.” 

Erik melted in his grasp, a strong blush taking over his cheeks. 

Eleven let go of his wrist, and instead let that hand rest on Erik’s hip. 

_ Silly boy.  _ Eleven thought,  _ so easily beguiled. _

Erik tucked his head under Eleven’s chin, and pressed his hands against his chest.

“You promise you’ll save her?” 

Eleven held Erik tightly against him.

“I promise. Just don’t leave my side.”

~~

Jasper watched the exchange from the shadows. 

He wasn’t meant to be here yet.

He was supposed to wait, attack the Luminary in daylight, capture him and bring him to Heliodor.

Although… perhaps he was too sure of himself, but this boy, he didn’t seem like the Luminary should. He didn’t  _ feel _ like a savior of anybody.

There was something in him, that reminded Jasper of himself.

His sickly pale skin, the purple malice-colored magic he used in battle and out, the too sweet, too unnatural smiles he wore…

He could be reasoned with, Jasper knew, if he only had the chance.

He’d be going against his Master’s word, trying this, but if they truly needed the Luminary so badly, then was it not in his best interests to try?

Voices interrupted his thoughts, and after one last exchange, the blue haired pick-pocket turned to leave.

He hesitated, unsure of himself, but with just a little more urging, a smile and a promise from the Luminary, he was gone, heading towards the Gondolian Inn.

Jasper waited just a moment longer, just to be sure there was no one else, just to wait for the streets to be completely clear, when-

“I know you’re there.” 

Jasper nearly jumped out of his skin. 

The Luminary was up on the bridge in the center of town, Jasper streets away, and yet he heard the voice as if the man was standing right behind him.

His heart was beating in his ears.

This wasn’t a good idea. Perhaps-

“ _ I know you’re there. _ ” The voice said again. The Luminary made no move, staring at where he stood, his eyes reflecting the moonlight like a cat.

Jasper stepped out of the shadows, and into view.

Nothing happened.

No attack, to call to arms.

But he still felt as if his life was in mortal danger.

He took one tentative step forward, to make for the bridge, and when again no move was made, he continued.

Down the stone walkway, through the empty midnight city, the hair on the back of his neck raised, feeling like prey to someone leaning against the railing as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

In too little time, Jasper stood before the boy, and felt silly for fearing him.

He was unarmed, he was shorter than Jasper, and he stood relaxed, hands at his sides, studying Jasper as if he were a stranger, and not one of the two people hunting him down night and day.

“What do you want?” He asked, short and to the point. 

Jasper smiled at the boy, an expression he’d seen mirrored on his face not minutes ago. 

Something fake, something meant to be comforting when it was anything but.

“I believe we have a common interest,” he began, “my master and I- we want to change this world, and not necessarily for the better.”

The Luminary said nothing, still looking at Jasper with calculating eyes, lifting his chin slightly, waiting for him to continue.

“We want this world for ourselves, to paint it how we wish, to reshape it into any form we wish.”

“For your own personal benefit?” The Luminary grinned, “and you’re just telling  _ me  _ this? Who’s to say that I won’t stop you here and now? Isn’t it my duty to keep the world safe?”

“Just a hunch.” Jasper said, “I can tell… you and I, we share a common interest, if I could hazard a guess.” The boy carried himself in a way no boy from a backwater village like Cobblestone should,

As if he had power above those around him, prestige. “You want power.”

“I have power already.” The Luminary pointed out, flipping his hand around the show the mark of light, that shone not a bright gold, but a dim purple. 

_ It’s working, _ Jasper told his sprinting heartbeat,  _ he’s listening, he’s interested _ .

“My master and I need your power.” Jasper smiled in earnest, feeling his triumph. “If you come with me, offer your power to him, offer your assistance, I’m sure we’d have more than our fair share of the spoils.”

The smile fell from the Luminary’s face as quickly as it had appeared. “I need no master.” He spat, all of the earlier half-friendliness gone in an instant. “I answer to  _ no one _ , and your anonymous  _ master  _ is hardly going to change that.” He stood tall, pushing off from the railing to stand toe-to-toe with Jasper.

“I’m not looking for a  _ fair share _ of anything.” The blue in his eyes was gone now, something darker taking its place. “You can tell the man holding your leash that I’m not interested. He can give up on  _ recruiting  _ me.”

The  _ insolence _ ! Jasper brought his hand up to slap the boy across his face, to teach him a little respect, but the glow of black magic in the Luminary’s hands stopped him in his tracks.

If he hit him now, there’d be no going back.

Jasper knew when to stand down.

This was no loss, he still had tomorrow. 

As he stood down, so did the Luminary. 

But he didn’t turn his back quite yet.

“You’ll regret this choice.” Jasper warned.

“You know,” the Luminary said, “I don’t think I will.”

~~

The thief fell to the ground, the spell hitting the boy instead of his intended target.

The Luminary stared down at his companion in fury. Teeth grinding, fists clenched, and looked up to meet Jasper’s eyes from across the canals.

They were purple, the whites gone dark.

Something cold made its way through Jasper’s heart.

He’d hurt what belonged to the Luminary, and he knew that somewhere down the line, he’d have to pay for it.

  
  



	2. Up on a Pedestal - Erik

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even before he’d met him, part of Erik already loved the Luminary.
> 
> He loved him because he would save Mia.
> 
> He loved him because he could give Erik the forgiveness he so dearly needed,
> 
> He loved him for the freedom he would bring with him.

Even before he’d met him, part of Erik already loved the Luminary.

He loved him because he would save Mia.

He loved him because he could give Erik the forgiveness he so dearly needed,

He loved him for the freedom he would bring with him.

And then, he got to meet him.

He learned the name of the man he loved.

They ran together.

From a dragon, off a cliff, away from Heliodor, leaving bloody footprints in their wake.

And Erik loved him even more.

For the promises Eleven made.

For the kindness, Eleven showed.

For the gentle touches, for the painful ones.

For the smiles he gave to Erik that made his heart skip a beat.

He loved him enough that he didn’t care for the wrongs he witnessed.

He could look past the bodies of the dungeon guards. 

The soldiers in Gondolia. 

The fighters in Octogonia. 

He saw the blood on Eleven’s hands. He didn’t pretend it wasn’t there.

He didn’t ignore that that blood was on him as well. 

He felt it’s ghostly presence as Eleven’s hands as they moved under his tunic, touching him. Sliding up his stomach, over his mark, to the two hoops on either side of his chest, and back down to his stomach.

Sharp nails left slightly raised marks across his skin, and then they were gone.

The laces on his tunic already loose, Eleven pushed it up and pulled it over Erik’s head in seconds, letting it drop to the floor where his sash and trousers already lay.

Erik lay back and waited.

He shivered in the cold, goosebumps rising on his skin, as Eleven looked him over like a piece of meat.

His hands touched the mark on his chest again.

The pain still there, healing hardly finished, ached deep in his chest, and Erik pushed his head further back into the pillows.

He enjoyed this pain. Any of it, all of it, as long as it was Eleven causing it.

There wasn’t a single time Erik walked out of bed with Eleven without blood and bruises on him somewhere. His neck, his chest, his thighs. 

He wanted it. More and more each time, he wanted to bleed for Eleven. He wanted to see it, his blood staining his skin, covering his fingertips, smeared on the corner of his mouth. 

This is where Erik belonged. He didn’t need to be anywhere but at Eleven’s side, or under him on their bed.

Eleven ran his fingers over the brand on his chest.  _ “Love this. Love how it looks on you.” _

Erik’s voice cracked. “So- so do I.”

_ “Turn over. _ ” Eleven finally told him, “ _ touch yourself for me.” _

Hyper aware of Eleven's eyes on him, Erik maneuvered onto his knees, with his shoulders and face down on the mattress.

Eleven sat back towards the end of the bed to watch, but not before opening their oil bottle and letting it drizzle down over Erik’s tailbone to drip down his back and over his ass.

A few drops made it to the sheets, but it would hardly be the worst stain they would be leaving for the innkeeper to clean.

Erik reaches back between his legs and begins to open himself up for Eleven without hesitating.

He knew what Eleven wanted.

The noises he made started out soft, quiet.

He could look between his own spread legs and just see Eleven’s hand on himself, moving slowly, pleasuring himself to the sight of Erik.

Erik tried to go fast, to keep Eleven from waiting too long.

He added another finger just a little too soon, winced at the burn but continued on. He spread his knees a little further, panted and groaned into the pillow, trying to put on a show.

“ _ Stop.” _ Eleven’s hands were on his hips now.

Erik felt his cock moving against his own for just a moment.

Erik took his fingers away and waited.

He grit his teeth through the initial stretch and let go. Let Eleven take control.

His nails cut the skin on his stomach, leaving four scalpel fine cuts across his abdomen on either side.

The sharp pain lasting only a moment.

Red beaded and fell to the white sheets below.

Drip, drip, drip, down.

The cuts stopped bleeding in no time at all, but the smell was already in the room.

The proof was already on the sheets.

Eleven snarled, leaned forward to drape himself over Erik’s back, and picked up his pace.

He wrapped his arms around Erik’s middle, reopening the cuts, restarting the small trickle of blood that now ran over Eleven’s skin.

This is what Erik wanted.

He couldn’t stop the sounds he was making now.

But he didn’t care.

He knew how much Eleven liked to hear him. He didn’t care if anyone else could.

Not like this.

Not when he could feel his own hot blood on Eleven’s hands.

Not when he was being used like this.

His favorite kind of pain bloomed from the juncture of his neck and shoulder. 

Eleven’s teeth cut through his skin again. 

He was sure that by now he had scars.

He always bit deeper than he cut.

Erik felt the heat dribble down his chest to paint another section of the sheet a fine ruby red.

He felt the vibrations of Eleven’s voice on his skin, his own blood on his neck, on his stomach. 

Eleven’s sword-calloused hands on him, playing with his piercings, moving on him in rhythm with his own movements.

“ _ Love you, love you,” _ Erik said into the pillow, over and over again, until-

He finished in Eleven’s hand, crying into the sheets.

Eleven righted himself, and moved faster, harder, over-stimulating Erik until he faltered and stopped, finishing inside of Erik with a cut-off groan.

He pulled out and took his hands away from Erik’s body. 

He left behind bruises where his hands had been.

“Good boy,” Eleven whispered to him, his hand on Erik’s neck turning his head towards him to kiss.

The metallic taste of his own blood made Erik feel light-headed.

“ _ Love you _ .” Erik said again when they broke apart, eyes focused on the smear of red on Eleven’s chin.

Eleven smiled the smile he reserved only for Erik.

And even if he didn’t say it back, Erik knew he loved him back.

He’d follow this man into hell if he asked.


	3. Ashes of the Past — Rab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rab had come to know loss personally throughout his long life, but this boy, his only daughter’s boy, all that remained of his bloodline, he didn’t.  
> Or, at least, he hadn’t.

The poor young lad.

Rab watched silently as his grandson stood in the ruins of Dundrasil. As he looked around the crumbling once-great city, right from the epicenter of the disaster.

The poor child.

Rab had come to know loss personally throughout his long life, but this boy, his only daughter’s boy, all that remained of his bloodline, he didn’t.  
Or, at least, he hadn’t.

Rab had heard the story already.  
Of Cobblestone burned to the ground. Of the people that perished for no greater crime than taking in an orphaned boy.  
He’d lost his home, and the only family he’d ever known in one night.  
Just as Rab had.  
But Rab never had to live through that twice. Not as the poor boy did now.  
Rab never had a second home to see gone, never had to learn of a second set of parents lost to the great beyond.

There was ash fluttering down to the earth.  
Leftover from setting those Dundrasilian souls to rest, finally coming to rest on the ground, scattering not the ashes of their bones, but as close as they would get.  
It wasn’t enough.  
But it was all Rab had to offer.

Eleven’s hands fisted at his sides, shaking with grief, with barely suppressed rage.

The poor boy.

So young, and so filled with hate.  
Rab would do what he could to help his grandson move past that anger.  
Not to forgive, no, what happened to Dundrasil, what happened to Cobblestone, and even what happened to Zwarrdsrust all those years ago, that should not ever be forgiven.  
But to forget. To move on, to let go, and live a happy life.

But that could wait.  
The anger could turn to be quite useful in this fight.  
Vengeance was not something Rab was taught to follow. It was never something he’d seen any merit in.  
But it could prove their success.  
It could make Eleven’s blade sharper, his moves more agile, his cuts deeper.

After this was all over, after Mordegon has been defeated, Rab would help him.  
Maybe he could learn about his grandson. Be a grandfather, a guiding light, a mentor.

But not yet.

Not until it was all over.

Eleven noticed him at last.  
His eyes flicked over him once, twice, and he turned to leave, heading back to the campfire, back to his companions.

Rab shouldn’t have stayed. He should’ve let the boy alone to grieve.

The poor child.

~~

The night here in Dundrasil was quiet.

Even as the city was taken back from nature, no animals came to make the ruins their home. No squirrels chased each other up the ruined stone steps, no deer grazed in what remained of the town square.

The city was well and truly dead, the events of that single tragic night still lay like a blanket over it all.

And what a night it must’ve been.

Eleven’s mind supplied images of fire, of smoke, towering above the houses and stores, burning through the castle as monsters poured through the streets, fighting and killing, maiming and stealing away the citizens.

Eleven wanted to scream out his fury.  
This is where he was born. This is where he should’ve grown up.  
He was a prince. He was the heir to a ruined throne, and what was the worth in that?

It should still be here, should still be standing. He should be standing tall, dressed in the finest clothes, eating only the finest foods, not out here in the dark and cold, filthy from the road, stomach empty from their lack of provisions.

The crown should be his. The throne should be his. This city, this world, should be his to rule over.

Eleven supposed he could rebuild it, make it the glorious city it once was, fill it out, make it prosperous.

He heard a stone skitter down the path.

Eleven turned to see Rab watching him. Observing him silently with a sad expression.

The last King of Dundrasil.  
For shame.

Eleven turned and left, to make his way back down the staircase, to retake his seat by the fire, to pull Erik in close again.

He could rebuild this city.  
He could be King here if he wished.

But Yggdrasil was high in the sky, and so much of a better prize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self projection is a hell of a drug.
> 
> Serena’s chapter is up next!


End file.
